Voyeur

It was the first time I saw her in person. I meant to tell her about the pool and the lifeguard, but her hand on my thigh changed the conversation before I finished the sentence.

I climbed the tree behind the dormitory to confirm what I already knew. I never imagined seeing her with him on the balcony would awaken something between rage and desire I’d never felt.

Three hours reading stories on my phone were enough for me to accept Iván’s proposal. The next day, that hidden camera changed my whole life.

She came in wearing her white uniform and her usual smile. What neither of them saw coming was that the other woman was on the sofa, three meters from the game.

When she gave me the keys to her apartment and left for work, I already knew that night we were going to debut much more than the bottle of wine I had packed in my suitcase.

I wanted them to imagine her from a distance. I didn’t expect her to organize the scene herself, or my screen-side accomplice to show up with a flashlight in his hand.

When she whispered that she was dripping and apologized, I realized our fantasy had gotten out of hand. And the stranger still hadn’t done his worst.

I dialed her number when I figured he already had her beneath him. I wanted to hear her moan while another man paid for her, never knowing I was in on it.

At three in the morning, I pretended the blanket was covering my eyes. What I saw in my own living room I should never have seen, and yet I never looked away.

For months I’d let her dance alone, waiting for someone to push far enough. That night, a man taller than me finally did it.

She came out of the changing room with her back to me, wearing a bikini she had never shown me. I felt jealous. And, without knowing why, I started to feel something else too.

I went to the club looking for a quiet night. I ended up walking through a bedroom door with another man’s wife and the promise that he’d wait outside.